


Down Came The Rain, And Washed The Spider Out 🕷

by Kaydu



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Liberal use of F word, M/M, Mental Disorders, Multi, Peter has serious issues ngl, Promiscuity, STARKER END GAME, We Die Like Men, author will add as it goes, initial underage peter, liberal use of profanity, switching POVs probably, this starts out super dark ya’ll, unbeta’d
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24932965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaydu/pseuds/Kaydu
Summary: Honestly, the fact that Peter came back from dusting pretty stable and sane is... well, a miracle, since he could feel every moment of it as he went. Add that to watching Tony Stark die in front of him as he realized that he loved him, on top of the Quentin Beck fiasco in Venice and... well....Can anyone blame him for losing it?(In which Peter Parker does not get his shit together, starts down a dark and self flagellating pathway, and a completely baffled resurrected Tony Stark has to wade through the absolute wreckage his death caused While trying to save his marriage and pull Peter Parker out of the slum hole he dropped himself into).STARKER END GAME (if you’re not into it, turn around now).
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Original Male Character(s), Tony Stark/Peter Parker
Comments: 33
Kudos: 73





	1. The Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All those in Discord who Encouraged my idea!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+those+in+Discord+who+Encouraged+my+idea%21).



> “But Kaydu, you still have not finished CoTM!” 
> 
> Yes. I know. But this has become an obsession I couldn’t ignore and was getting in the way of CoTM progress and so, here we are. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this crazy ride I am going to attempt. Because, why not? 
> 
> Ps- as always, the Pugs made me do it.

See, the problem with Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and geeky best friend who likes to build LEGO Death Stars and keeps Avengers action figures on his desk next to his painfully old and pieced together computer... the problem is; he’s way too fucking smart and yet sometimes so, so stupid. Which is probably why not two months after “The Final Snap,” with lots of days full of anger and tears and depression, he found himself in the lab at Stark Tower with Pepper’s blessing (the tower had been abandoned since Tony’s death, Pepper not having the heart to live there with Morgan anymore and yet not being able to bring herself to clear it out and sell it, and Peter’s all access clearance still intact. Even more so since Mr. Stark had apparently left Karen and every other piece of technology, half finished ideas, and carte Blanche to do as he would like with all of the Iron man suits) listlessly wondering if a heart could actually literally break. And so, sitting on the floor of the greatest most high tech lab in the world, Peter decided to start “experimenting.” For “science.” 

He started small, of course, because he wasn’t try to kill himself. Just the most mildest of the long, long list of things he had hastily scribbled down on a wayward piece of paper that still had mathematical equations sprawled out over it in Mr. Starks spiky handwriting. He was very disappointed to find that no matter how much Marijuana he smoked, no matter how “potent” the strain or blend, all he got out of it was a sore scratchy throat for the times he took huge gulping inhales and clothing and hair that reeked vaguely of dead skunk. He noted his “findings” in a file he had Karen label as “Healing Factor Testing S.M.” with a little spider web symbol at the end. It made him feel better because, right, it’s for science. 

The next “test” was easy enough as well and actually happened outside of the lab. Bless MJ and Ned for the golden opportunity... a tentative invitation to a small “we are alive” party held by everyone in his “close circle” that knew he was spider man who had returned from dusting and everyone who had survived the final confrontation with Thanos. And yeah, it was a small party overall but the important part was there was free, ever flowing alcohol with adults turning a blind eye to anyone under the age of 21 partaking as well. (Read; most of them were so happy that Peter had emerged from a bed or the lab they were desperate enough to have him stay by not saying anything at all). And so, Peter partook. Heavily. With every single drink that could be offered, with shots of everything he could get his hands on, with shotgunning a beer for the hell of it and..... nothing. Not even a buzz, just a vague feeling of his stomach being a little too full, but even that burned off quickly as his insane metabolism ate it up. The disappointment was heavy and he left immediately after two hours of fruitless heavy drinking to update Karen on the new “findings.” 

Cocaine, he found, was in no way pleasant in that it hit him quick and rocketed his heart rate up to an alarming degree for about a minute, before dropping off so suddenly he would need a moment to remember how to breathe. 

Meth made him horribly nauseous for a very short amount of time but it was the worst his stomach had ever cramped in his life- as if his body was physically trying to dispel the awful foreign material with the maximum amount of force. If Peter didn’t know better, the tone of Karen’s voice when he had her log those findings was vaguely disapproving. 

LSD, PCP, Ecstasy.... nothing. Nothing at all. 

His “experiments” halted for a while as he prepared for his trip overseas with grand plans of trying to woo MJ (he refused to acknowledge the little voice in the back of his head telling him he was trying to force something in order to forget.... forget that as Mr. Stark was laying there dying, murmuring with Pepper and desperately looking into her eyes even as she told him it was ok.... forget that it took the man literally dying in front of him for everything to snap into a sort of horrifying clarity with the only thought in his mind on repeat, hysterically, -he can’t die, I love him, I LOVE him, he can’t leave because oh my god I’m so in love with him!- )

And then. 

And then. 

Mysterio. Fury. Feeling his barely there hold on his sanity stretched thinner and thinner and thinner as he discovered the lies and Trickery of Quentin Beck, the man that kind of sort of made Peter’s shattered heart beat a little faster because of the -likeness- he had to... but then Peter killed him, the first human that he can remember ever killing, and although MJ had figured out he was Spider-Man and that Peter Parker killed a man, she was still just a (arguably) normal person who just -didn’t get it.- 

And although Peter made it home and May hugged him and whispered how much she hated him being Spider Man and how happy she was he was alive, he still felt like he could slog through day to day until everything just stopped hurting so fucking much and.... and..... 

And then his face is plastered everywhere. Quentin Beck reaching even still from the dead to continue trying to ruin everything Tony Stark related which now meant ruining Peter Parker and Spider-Man. And oh, the video Beck had compiled, the way he was able to make it shine a dark, dark angle on Spider-Man and especially on little geeky -fade into the background- Peter Parker was.... horrifically artfully done. A masterpiece, really. Peter was impressed. He was also terribly, terribly unprepared and so he had gone immediately back to the only place he felt like he had any control over anything, the only place he could lock the doors and never ever be disturbed; the Stark Tower. After about 12 hours his phone died and he didn’t bother to charge it back up, just like he didn’t bother to read anything (texts included) on his phone post “The Beck Revelation” as he took to calling it to himself. 

So, a literal genius teenager finally just losing it, all by himself in the lab of a tower no one else could enter and with unlimited resources and quite a lot of money (the youngest billionaire in the world, now). For days he just sat there, thinking. He only ate when Karen would have Dum-E bring him something random (a bag of chips here, some leftovers there..... it’s not like Dum-E could make him a proper meal and he was in no state to even care to himself). 

And so, he gets to work. It’s not really hard. There is a wild botany lab in Stark Tower that Peter is about 98% sure is all Dr. Banner’s doing (plants ranging from Earth and otherwise) along with several species of spiders and other venemous bugs and snakes (Karen quietly informed him that yes, she had a program within her that made sure the creatures and plants were fed and taken care of to the best of her ability) that he immediately starts to take full advantage of. He sleeps a little more and eats a bit better having found something to throw all of his.... attention into. A distraction good enough to push everything just barely off to the side. 

It does and does not surprise him, really, when a month into his feverish, obsessive work that an orange circle appears in the middle of Mr. Starks lab (luckily or unluckily he had to be there at that exact time) in order for a very well put together Dr. Strange to step through all passive face and calculating gaze. Peter pauses in his frantic formula calculations and swipes all of the holograms away with a flick of his wrist and turns around in the swivel stool he’s on (Peter can almost see it out of the corner of his eyes sometimes, the ghost of a memory of Mr. Stark doing the same in circles as he contemplates something) to look up through his too long, limp bangs and stare silently at Dr. Strange. (He can’t even remember the last time he took a shower and although the thought should horrify and disgust him, he can’t even muster up any care at all). 

“The Avengers, T’Challah, Happy, and Stark Industries via Pepper Potts have worked diligently to clear up the misconceptions Quentin Beck created. Currently, Spider-Man is being hailed as one of the bravest Avengers once it was revealed that he was apart of the destruction of Thanos, and Peter Parker has surpassed Celebrity status and, I dare say, has entered the realm of Legend. I suppose that happened right around the time that it was leaked from an unknown source that 14 year old Peter Parker held his own rather well against even Captain America in Germany.” Dr. Strange paused as he ran his fingers over one of the many steel countertops within reach, though his eyes never left Peter’s own. Peter was distracted momentarily by the Ornery cloak twisting around oddly behind Strange, as if dancing to some song that no one can hear, until Strange speaks again. 

“Coincidentally there happened to be a lot of footage involving Spider Man that clearly debunked Beck’s own video, including a very interesting few snippets that seem to have come from out of nowhere that showed the minutes before and after Beck’s death in full, delivered to Pepper Potts via Tony Starks private email.” 

The words took a few seconds to register for Peter and then he cut his eyes up to one of the many cameras that he knew Karen had full control of and although he didn’t even bother to ask, he could guess who (or what, depending on how you look at it) delivered those videos. It’s not as if he had banned Karen from reaching out to anyone in any fashion, he had just restricted access to the Tower itself so, yeah. He understood. He didn’t even really care, in so very many ways, and so he stayed silent. For a long time there was silence and an odd tension that Peter couldn’t quite place, before the other man spoke up again. 

“See, I don’t like to have my time wasted because I am a seriously busy man, and I definitely never signed up to be the fetching dog to some angsty teenager. So I’m going to have to ask you very politely to allow access to the tower, or to leave it altogether, because there are quite a few rather annoyingly persistent people that will not leave me alone until you do so since apparently I am the only one that can even reach you. And when I say ask, I don’t actually mean for you to be able to say no. So, if you’re done with your little pity party of absolutely epic proportions, I’m going to need you to get up and go take a shower and make yourself presentable because there’s no way I am coming anywhere close to you with you looking and smelling the way you do right now. As much as I loathe to even say it, Stark would be ashamed of you.” 

And, yeah. That does it. Peter had been half listening dispassionately as Strange droned on and on, but that last bit? Yeah. That did it. Because Peter can remember it, the words, a clanging rattle in the back of his mind.... 

-I’m sorry, I’m confused as to the relationship here. What is he, your ward?- 

He is up on his feet and across the room with his hand bunched into the front of Strange’s shirt and slamming the mans back against the wall, snarling like a rabid animal, between one blink and the next. And there is a flicker in Strange’s eyes- not fear but something ridiculously close to it and a healthy amount of disbelief as well, and that just makes Peter all the angrier. 

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say his name, or even think it. You may have your magic bullshit but I promise you, if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, none of that is going to save me from ripping your head off. And I can do it, I promise.” 

Perhaps it was the calmly whispered way he delivered the words or the strength he had just shown or maybe the wild look in his eyes but as soon as he let Dr. Strange go, the man didn’t hesitate to leave, and Peter was left full of seething anger and bone deep sadness. 

Like a madman he dove right back into it with even more determination than before. The visit from Strange had yanked everything right back to the front of his mind and he was done. So very done. 

So when two weeks later and no more interruptions saw the birth of all of his manic work, he stood triumphantly in the center of Mr. Starks own bedroom, draped in one of the mans shorts that still smelled of his cologne and reached down to the tops of his thighs and nothing else, holding aloft a small glass vial with a sickly green liquid sparkling inside it.... he felt a spark of hope for the first time in however long, he doesn’t know. He shuffles over to the obnoxiously large bed, pushing off the pillows that even now smelled of Peppers perfume and shampoo, and burrowed into the leftover pillows and blankets and cold sheets, heaving a great sigh before throwing back the entire content of the vial, relishing in the rather painful burn of it as it splashed over his tongue and down his throat. The effect, as he had hoped and meticulously calculated, was immediate. He barely had time to drop the empty vial on the side table before the heavy warmth started to spread out from his chest area, body taking and soaking it into his blood to reach his heart and be pushed throughout his entire body, a strange and foreign feeling of euphoria chasing on its heels. He felt his body relax muscle by muscle, leaving him a veritable pool of relaxation in the bed, pupils blown wide and an odd, goofy little smile on his face. He welcomed the next step, the detachment of it all, aware of what’s going on around him and to him but without any cares or inhibitions and he can’t help but be super proud of himself. 

Drifting off was easy, after that, and although his dreams were filled with wonderful wonderful things (the whisper of lips he’d never tasted, hands gliding over him to check his suit, a lopsided smile and the echo of “kid” used like an endearment) he can’t remember them when he finally comes back from floating around in blissful nothingness exactly 24 hours after he doses himself, but that’s ok. 

It’s ok because he’s finally, finally created something that can just take it all away, and let him feel very little at all except for calm and bliss. 

It’s all ok.


	2. The Flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor Spidey :( 
> 
> Hello, Harry, welcome to the party. 
> 
> As always, the pugs made me do it.
> 
> COME BE A FILTHY DEGENERATE WITH ME!

Meeting Harry Osborne was probably the beginning of the end for Peter, truth be told. Older by only a few years, perfectly styled hair and the bluest eyes Peter had ever seen, with a tongue like silver. If Peter would have met him while in his right mind, he would have ran as fast as possible as far as possible but... well. 

So when Peter met Harry, doped up with his own special liquid blend (he called it Venom and laughed more often than not about it), it was easy enough for the other man to sink his claws (and his teeth, and his fingers, and his cock) into Peter with no resistance at all. It having been Peter’s first time for.... well, basically everything, it was painful. Even more so because Harry, as charming as he was in public, held very little care for Peter’s comfort when it came to the bedroom. Peter didn’t mind, overall. He actually found that he quite enjoyed the way it hurt, and not so much in a sexual way because most of the time he never even got hard or came himself, and that was perfectly ok. Because Harry pushed and yanked and hit and went so -hard- that everything always hurt and that was delicious to Peter. He didn’t want it to feel good, just as he took his drug so that he didn’t have to deal with anything emotionally either. Venom had slowed down his healing factor, too, so he always relished in the bruises and bite marks and the ache between his legs and cheeks for days after a round of sex with Harry (if Harry even waited days for another round. Sometimes Peter, strung out but edging towards a downer as Venom wore off, would antagonize him just enough to where his switch would flip and Harry would push his face down into the nearest surface and use only spit as lube. (Peter liked those the most and wouldn’t care where they were, either, because when he needed to get roughed up real good he knew he could count on Harry to make him -hurt.-  
Peter vaguely acknowledged the fact that Harry was into some shady stuff. He never let himself really think about it, especially when he wasn’t under the influence of Venom, because then his thoughts would stray to all of the versions of his Spider-Man suit left abandoned in Stark Tower and how it used to be that he would actively be trying to thwart people like Harry. 

That was a different life. Felt almost like a dream, most days. MJ and Ned were worried about his continuous withdrawals from more and more things, including his silence in his classes. He was able to keep up his spectacular grades (Courtesy of his brilliant mind), but he had very little patience or care for anything else while he was off of Venom. He didn’t -want- to care, so he actively chose not too. Eventually, despite months of begging, MJ and Ned simply just.... stopped asking to hang out. Stopped asking what he was up to, why he was covered in bruises and hickies, why he was so very different than the person they originally befriended. And sure, Peter should probably feel guilty about all of that but in reality he is just relieved. He would be happy to leave everything pre Venom I’m his life in the past, including May. Wonderful, strong, beautiful May who had been the main driving force in getting Strange to visit that time in Stark Tower. But with the death of his phone and the ability to disappear in an instant if she went looking for him at school, he was able to leave her in the past as well, feeling as if leaving her in Happy’s more than capable hands was good enough. 

Peter was 17 when Harry took him into a hole in the wall nightclub that must be his base of operations overall because the bouncer at the door avoided looking at Peter altogether and never asked Harry for ID for either of them, despite Peter’s super obvious baby face and drug intoxication as he nuzzled into Harry’s arm with the side of his face. Peter never did ask what their original reason for being there was, or at least why Harry even took him when he never had before, but whatever the original reason it didn’t really matter in the end, because Peter found out quickly that he was there as.. well. Collateral? There was a man, hazy as Peter’s memory was, who was quite insistent on a debt that Harry owed that couldn’t be paid. Unaware of exactly how they got to the ending agreement, Peter ended up bent over and sprawled over the round booth table they had been sitting at, hair clutched in the unrelenting fist of a stranger as he was fucked ruthlessly. He passed out at some point during the altercation and had come back to Harry running gentle fingers down his bruised back softly telling him he had been -such- a good boy for Harry. The other man had taken the time to clean Peter up (cum dripping out of him and running down his thighs, bloodied split lip puffed and weeping) before carefully maneuvering him into a back room where a bed was made up with thick blankets and feathered pillows, where Peter drifted off to Harry telling him he was going to be such a blessing to business. 

It became a thing, after that. Peter was a well known fixture perched either on Harry’s knee or whoever else’s that Harry pointed him too, and more often than not Peter found himself being screwed or knocked around at least once a night (but mostly twice) by different men. He never questioned it, never asked Harry why or to make it stop, he just kept himself drifting in that wonderful floating feeling provided by Venom more and more and more, until ninety percent of his awake time was consumed by it instead of sobriety. 

He actually -was- surprised then when Harry palmed him off to a uncharacteristically Dapper dressed Peter Quill in the back room with the bed, murmuring to him to “be a good boy and help take care of an important client.” Quill stood off to the side, an unreadable expression on his face as Peter stumbled towards the bed while shucking off his shirt, unconcerned about the green and purple and black bruises littered across the front and back of his torso. Quill made an off choking noise before making Peter stop stripping, in which the younger of the two fell backwards on the bed to watch Quill from behind his long lashes while the other man visibly seemed to try and pull himself back together. 

“There is word out in the underbelly of both Earth and Space that anyone who wants to fuck the famous Spider-Man can do it, at a very steep price.” Quill looked very uncomfortable, then, and Peter shifted his legs so they were opened wider and welcoming, daring Quill with his eyes to rip off his pants and go to town. Quill, disappointingly so in Peter’s mind, curled his lip and moved towards the door slowly, never taking his eyes off of Peter as he went. “I was asked to come verify if it was true. I am disappointed to find that it is.” 

Peter gave an absent smile and trailed his own fingertips across his nipples, running his tongue across his bottom lip before catching said lip between his teeth. He watched as Quill’s eyes darted down to track the movement before slanting off to the side in discomfort. “Dr. Strange..... he thinks there’s a chance Tony Stark could come back. I just thought you should know.” Then Quill was slipping out of the door, quiet as a ghost, and Peter fell back against the bed again, blearily staring up at the ceiling as he laughed bitterly to himself. Right. People didn’t return from the dead. Not true death. 

He took a moment there to himself to breathe deeply and slowly before rolling off of the bed, digging through the drawer of the side table, and downing a second dose of Venom. His head rolled and lolled as it took quick effect, doubling up his normal high before he staggered still shirtless out into the club to find and antagonize Harry. 

That night Harry had him over the bar as everyone watched and since Peter went above and beyond trying to piss him off, he let anyone who wanted to use him afterwards do so for free. 

Peter isn’t sure how many people fucked him that night but he woke up still bent over the bar, hole tender and dried cum dried in strips all over his body and tasting it in his mouth, and his biceps and thighs and hips blanketed in fresh, dark bruises. 

If he was in too much pain to move for a while even after he woke up... well. 

All the better.


	3. The Dawn of a New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I.....
> 
> I love you? All? 
> 
> Hope you love this chapter too. 
> 
> (The Pugs, as always, made me do it.)
> 
> Come play with me on discord! https://discord.gg/dh2m4QP

Tony isn't completely certain as to what's happening for a moment, honestly. There's this massive pressure like feeling against his chest, a hot as fire nasty feeling along his arm, and then a pop in his ears before he can really catalogue anything else going on. He cringes violently when there is a rush of super loud noise- beeps and whirring and voices jumbled together and just too much, too much, TOO MUCH and then blissful silence as if he has been dunked under water but still able to breathe. He internally takes stock of himself after letting himself reel and then... _well._ Then there is a memory wiggling in the back of his mind trying to catch his attention and he is hit suddenly with a flood of images and he comes out of whatever weird state he is in with a strangled gasp, sitting straight up in whatever weird metal bed he has found himself, eyes popping open wide and chest heaving.

He should be dead. He WAS dead, wasn't he? He remembers dying. He remembers Pepper in front of him, eyes kind and full of tears telling him that it was ok, that he had done it, he had saved them all. He remembers the beat of his heart slowing down, his breathing become less and less until he took one last inhale before... nothing else. He remembers seeing Peter's stricken face in the corner of his vision, pasty white with tears leaving streaks down his face through dirt and blood and who knows what else. He remembers his vision blackening at the edges before his eyelids became too heavy to keep open anymore. He _remembers_ letting go. He died. He died. But. BUT.

His burning eyes adjust slowly, the vivid brightness of white surrounding him screaming his brain into a full on migraine and he blinks rapidly to clear the painful tears that well up in response. He.... is he in Heaven? Hell? Has he been wrong his whole Atheist styled life and there actually is a place you go after death instead of just... ceasing to exist?

There is a moment longer where his eyes don't _quite_ register what else is in front of him but then his mind... brilliant and sharp but somehow dulled at this moment in time.... starts to flicker back online like a struggling computer turning back on after years of not being used. There's... a man. He squints bloodshot eyes and leans a bit more forward as his racing heart begins to slow and his lungs begin to not burn so much with his great heaving breathes and.... and is that?

Dr. Steven Strange stands there at the foot of the metal bed he is on, looking timeless and with that stupid fucking cape floating around as if it is moving with an underwater current. That brings up a vivid sense of annoyance within Tony- a feeling familiar and safe, perhaps, a steadying rock in the midst of a veritable ocean of confusion. The other man's lips tweak upwards at the corners as if he can read Tony's annoyance (and hell, maybe he can, because Tony has no idea what his face is currently doing right now for fucks sake). When Strange opens his mouth to speak Tony instinctively flinches as if expecting him to yell but Strange only offers a soft tone, almost a whisper, that is not to grating to Tony's ears.

"You are going to need some time, I imagine, to sort through quite a bit of confusion and to get your sense back to a normal level. Your sense of smell will probably be very intense, so I have instructed you to only be fed certain foods and for everyone who comes within this room first be sprayed liberally with scent blockers so that there is no chance for you to be overwhelmed." The Doctor gives a one shoulder shrug, eyes amused and yet alert upon Tony's face, before he continues. "I imagine you will also have a lot of questions but there's only so many that I can... or am allowed... to answer, so I doubt that you will be satisfied overall. I will get right to the point, however, and say that to us you have been... ah, gone... for a little over four years. The Avengers aren't technically a group anymore, though they continue to protect the Earth when need be, and stay in the loop with Fury and the rest." He pauses to allow Tony to try and sort through all of that and... honestly, Tony is silently thankful because, what?

 _What_?

He is still kind of stuck on the whole ‘four years gone’ thing. Gone, like... like what? He went on a little fucking _vacation_ off into Neverland and just now decided to return? Man might as well have just said dead, because that's what Tony knows that he really meant because Tony _remembers dying._ He rolls his neck to feel out some very odd kinks and tenseness and just as Strange opens his mouth to keep going Tony can't help it, it's just the first thing that blurts out of his mouth and makes his scratchy throat _burn_ and his heavy tongue fumble.

"I have.. a body? How... I had it in my will to be cremated?"

And, ok, maybe he deserves the very weird look that strange throws his way but... seriously. He knows he had cremation down and yet here he is, body and all....

Well.

Kind of.

He becomes acutely aware as he tries to move one of his hands to massage his throat that... well... one of his hands doesn't move and then he's glancing down at it because -why the fuck wouldn't his hand move- and. Well. Yeah, that would make sense because _he's missing a whole goddamn arm_. He stares at that, for a while, eyes locked onto the bandaged stump of his shoulder where his arm _should_ start and yet doesn't and vaguely remembers that, yeah, he did actually snap his fingers with the infinity stones and... yeah, that had definitely hurt like a bitch so.... makes sense. Total sense. He's totally NOT having a miniature internal freak out because he's apparently -alive- so what's a lost arm compared to dying? Totally fine.

(He keeps ignoring that panicky feeling in the background, and ignoring how the white bandages also wrap up the side of his neck and winds around his chest and the full throb of pain that accompanies all of those areas. He also ignores the slow realization that the side of his face is gauzed up as well. No sense in focusing on that, really, so).

Strange clears his throat and drags Tony's attention back to him even though he feels sluggish as he turns his eyes back in front of him. For the first time Strange looks vaguely.... unsettled. If Tony didn't know better he would almost describe the look on the other man's face as _sympathetic_ , but.

"There was.... a slight complication concerning your arm. Though since you built the whole Iron Man..... army of suits, so to speak, I doubt creating a replacement for your missing limb will be all that problematic." Strange shifts just a bit... barely a rock from foot to foot really but Tony still catches the sway of it... before waving his hand in a forced casual manner and turning to the side to walk towards a door Tony hasn't noticed until right this moment. "I will alert the medical staff that you have awoken. They will want to run … tests to make sure that everything is in, ah, proper order. I shall return in a few days to check on your overall progress. Do try and listen to them and stay in bed. You are going to have quite a road ahead of you to regain overall strength and functions, so."

And just like that, Strange is gone. There is a few beats of stillness and silence where Tony is still attempting to wrap his mind around the fact that somehow _Strange brought him back from the DEAD_ , and then the door opens almost violently, banging against the wall, and Pepper stands there in the doorway all wide eyes, full lips, and flushed cheeks looking at him as if he's a ghost and... ok again, that's fair....

Then she is running the short distance to his metal bed and flinging her arms around his neck, pulling the side his face without any bandages into the side of her neck as she buries her nose into his hair and breathes deeply as if trying to inhale his presence altogether. She sobs once, twice, and then dissolves hysterically against him, leaning her lithe frame against as much of him as she can, and he brings up his one still present arm (fuck if he isn't confused again for a moment when his phantom missing one doesn't move), and digs his fingers into the hairs at the back of her head, closing his eyes and just.... basking in her presence. The last time he saw her (which to be honest still kind of feels like just a few minutes) she was crying but in a different sort of resigned way and he was drinking her in because he knew he was dying. This... this is a blessing. A treat. One he fully intends on embracing tightly.

Because he's back. From the dead. And that just doesn't happen, so some entity somewhere must be rewarding him for all of his sacrifices and damn it, he is going to run that with everything he has left.


	4. The Drizzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this chapter is just... the little stuff that has to be acknowledged. But it's important all the same. I hope you all enjoy it regardless. 
> 
> The Pugs made me do it. 
> 
> Come join me in Discord, and let me know when you get there that this story is why! :)

It's slow going. VERY slow going, really. Tony has... some difficulties adjusting to not having both arms and, to be fair, he is also pretty much bed ridden until the doctors say otherwise which he's pretty sure is not going to be any time soon. Luckily the food is good because he is not actually in a regular hospital (even though most of it is pretty much liquid diet style with only bland crackers for some of the soups he is served). They are trying to be careful and slow and not upset his stomach or digestive system. Treating him as if he had been a coma patient that has woken up rather than someone brought back from the dead. Since there's no real precedence for his situation, he doesn't complain. He would rather not have a cramping stomach and nausea included with every other ache and pain he has. The one day he was stubborn and refused to take the extra pain medication in pill form, he regretted it terribly. The pain that rode the whole side of his body of the missing arm angrily evolved into blazing fire and he had nearly passed out before a nurse had come in and administered him some extra morphine through his I.V. He didn't skip any medicine they wanted him to take after that.

He has been avoiding the television for now unless its movies he has seen before, just to give him something to do when there are no doctors, nurses, or visitors in his room to take his mind away from his still missing arm (as if it would just magically... regrow. Hell, he came back from the literal dead. Dead, dead. Like, deader than a doorknob dead, so he really feels like the small hope he holds out that that impossibility is... well, possible, is completely acceptable in the grand scheme of things he could be believing in at this point). And there are visitors. Mostly Pepper and Rhodey, of course, his longest known friend crying in front of him for the first time since they were much much younger and Rhodey's childhood dog, old and blind, had somehow wandered out into the road and gotten struck my a car. Tony hadn't even felt awkward about it as the other man sat beside his larger than normal hospital bed and held onto his sole existing hand like a lifeline. When the man had left that first time Tony had developed some mild bruises around his wrist and forearm where Rhodey had been clinging. He found himself staring at them off and on, hypnotized by the proof that he truly IS alive and well and even able to bruise.

Fury had come as well, twice now, with Coulson. Of course they had. There was an unreadable look in Fury's one uncovered eye as he stood within the room and expressed his gratitude and his relief that Tony has returned. Truthfully, the way the man had been standing and the look that Tony couldn't quite pinpoint lit Tony's 'alarm' bell in the back of his mind. Tony has always been pretty much an expert in reading body language and Fury's body absolutely _screamed_ 'I am keeping a big secret from you, and I have no intention of telling you what it is. Ever.' Tony let it go, for now. What would he even really say? ' _Tell me all your secrets, mortal man?'_ Hah.

Clint had called him on the phone to talk for a full hour, something neither Tony nor Clint would have ever done before all of this. Texts at a maximum, usually. But he had called and they had talked and Clint promised whole heartedly that he would come visit as soon as possible. Tony understood. The man had a family and all that, now. The last thing Tony wanted to do was interrupt that quiet life he had earned for himself.

Dr. Strange and Banner are with him currently. Strange is muttering to himself and flipping through some massive Tome that looks as if it would fall apart at any second, small puffs of dust occasionally wafting off of the pages and making Strange's nose crinkle. Tony finds himself giving small smiles of amusement at that, his lips crooking upwards without his permission. Banner is off to the side, sitting at a small table and looking at a slide that contains some of Tony's freshly drawn blood. Tony doesn't know what he is looking for or why and he finds himself with very little interest in it at all. He blinks nice and slow, dragging his eyes back to Strange when the other man gives a little cough-huff noise and watches as the wizard turns his eyes towards the ceiling as if praying for patience.

"Is that the book that you used to bring me back?" The words tumble from his lips freely, aided by the slightly dopey feeling he's floating with currently. They must have administered another dose of pain meds or muscle relaxers or whatever else they keep giving him to make him feel this way. Strange's eyes move slowly back down to stare at Tony silently for a moment as if assessing Tony's right to ask the question or his own need to answer it. Normally that would instantly rankle and thrust Tony into high levels of aggravation but currently he just feels a tickle of it, way too far internalized for him to pay it any mind.

"It is not," the wizard says evenly while he snaps the book shut a little too forcefully, causing some more of that random dust to puff straight up and into his face and sending him into a small sneezing fit that makes Tony want to laugh. He doesn't, though, assuming that if he does then he will never get any answers from the other uptight man. Tony hums in the back of his throat instead and watches as Strange makes one of those weird reddish circle things and steps through it. He disappears from view on the other side but Tony can see a sort of weird library chamber like place for a minute before he looks back to Banner. He's not even going to try to follow the weird mind of Dr. Strange. He's not trying to lose himself in that madness, he has enough of his own thank you very much.

He clears his throat softly and it takes a moment for Banner to realize that he is trying to get his attention. When he finally looks up it's to fix Tony with a gentle stare, lips curved in his small trademark smile despite the green skin and overly large 'hulking' form, pardon the pun. "Ah, yes, Tony. My apologies. Did you have a question?"

Well... that's kind of loaded. Tony has questions. So, so many questions, but very few of them he thinks Banner can currently answer. At least the complicated ones anyways. He rolls his shoulders and a lightbulb goes off in his mind as his gaze sharpens in on the way that Banner's eyes watch the movement with a crease forming between his furrowing brows. "Alright, yes, I'll bite. Sure. So, what's the actual full scale damage, doc? Because I've gotta tell you, the Doctors and Nurses here in this place are being pretty tight lipped considering I am the patient and all." He watches as Banner flinches ever so slightly away from the question as if it's a physical thing. There is a beat of silence and then the big green man sighs heavily and reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose beneath his wire framed glasses.

"Yeah, you know what, you're right. You have a right to know." Banner pushes away from the desk and stands, rounding it to come stand next to the bed looking down at Tony. Tony himself has to crane his neck slightly to the side and tip his chin up to actually make their eyes meet. Freakishly big Banner has become, completely merged as one with the Hulk. "I guess there's the obvious... you have lost your right arm from your shoulder socket down. You just kind of... came back that way, no arm and no gauntlet or stones to be seen." Tony finds it interesting that Banner seems to stumble over the 'came back' portion of that statement but lets it slide as Banner's lips thin and he heaves a big sigh again, lowering his lumbering frame to his knees so that they can see eye to eye like normal people. He reaches out slowly, motioning towards the bandages extending from his torso up his neck, pausing to point at the side of his face that's bandaged. "There was other, ah... damage from your right up to the right side of your face. It... It's a little hard to explain really, and I am not sure that we completely uh... understand it either but," Banner slides his eyes to the side, looking towards the still swirling open circle THING that Strange stepped through. "It's. Well. There's... burns? Sort of? It's not really anything we have seen before. It's tissue that looks like its been burned in a fire but... it's not healing the right way. The treatments for burns of that caliber are... not working? Or rather they are working but just... not really correctly. It's. It's why no one wants to try to talk to you about it because no one can really explain it because there isn't an explanation. That's... that's what Dr. Strange is trying to figure out currently. It's why he is always in and out so much, looking for answers. Frankly, I think he is starting to get a bit flustered and annoyed that there doesn't seem to be an answer no matter where he looks."

Tony sits in the silence after Banner finishes, turning his eyes blankly towards the swirling circle as well (and, honestly, how long can one of those damned things stay open like that?), turning the words over and over in his thoughts. From what he gathers the damage is probably extensive and not only so, but healing improperly and most likely going to cause life long... _issues_. Massive scar tissue, perhaps. It would explain why his skin and that whole top half of his body feels stretched tight and stiff. His range of motion is currently.... not very good. Having been told now he understands the haunted, sympathetic look in Pepper's eyes every time she sits beside him holding his hand. It explains the way Rhodey had specifically not allowed himself to look at the bandages at all. It explains some of why Fury had seemed so understanding of the long road ahead of him, healing wise.

"I see," he finally manages to mumble out, closing his eyes to ground himself again. It will be fine. He's alive. He has people... people he knows will be there to help him, even obnoxiously so and even when he gets fed up with it and yells at them. He knows. Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Thor (even traveling around in space he knows if they were to reach out for him that he would come), Clint no doubt would come and stay for however long he was asked, Banner, Rogers (though apparently he is an old man now?), Sam, hell... he can probably even count Wanda in, if asked nicely enough... and Peter. He can always count on _Peter_ to....

His eyes blink open rapidly as his mind short circuits and seems to reboot in quick order. His head snaps back around so that he's staring at Banner, eyes narrow and assessing. Banner jerks back in surprise as whatever look Tony has on his face is turned towards him and begins to look a little wary.

"Underoos. _Parker_." He says it as a statement but it's clear that it is a question. Tony is pretty conceited, yes, but he doesn't think that it's an outrageous assumption to have that Peter Parker would have been one of the first ones chomping at the bit to make it in to see Tony Stark alive and well. But, he hasn't. In fact... In fact, Tony realizes, no matter how much updating everyone has done on themselves and their friends and the Avengers as a whole, no one has mentioned Spider-Man once. And that... that's..... He watches as Banner goes very, very still and avoids his searching gaze, looking everywhere but at Tony's face. There's something settling in the pit of Tony's stomach as he watches the silent reaction and is surprised when Banner actually starts to speak.

"Ah, yes, well. Mr. Parker is, ah..."

"Currently unavailable at this time. No communication possible, really. Nothing to fret over." Strange's voice bites through whatever Banner had been about to say and Tony watches as Banners mouth shuts with a clack of teeth, looking a slight paler shade of green. He forces a smile, though, and nods.

"Yes, as Dr. Strange says he is just currently... unavailable." The final word is a bit strangled but Tony doesn't get the chance to pry because Banner is soon unfolding himself to stand up and move towards table to pick up whatever he had been scribbling on and carrying it towards the door. "I will be back tomorrow for some more tests if that is alright, Tony. I hope you have a good rest of your day." Then he is gone, door snicking shut behind him and leaving Tony and Strange staring at each other, red circle into the unknown gone.

"Well then, lets get to work, shall we?" He offers Tony a sheaf of papers on a clipboard and Tony takes it with a little bit of caution, eyeballing it weirdly. When he looks back up Strange is sporting a shark like smile and holding out a pen. "You can help annotate notes as I speak. No technology allowed. Have to start learning how to function with that left hand, now."

Tony groans, silently, but takes the pen nonetheless.


	5. Thunder Rolls

"She's afraid of me," Tony mumbles, eyes hovering at Pepper's hip where his daughter is peeking around her mother's side just barely, one eye staring at him balefully as tiny fists clutch Pepper's shirt tightly. He can see Pepper shift a bit, uncomfortable, and she reaches down and a bit back to place her hand on Morgan's head lightly. Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, centering himself, before looking up to meet Pepper's eyes sadly. Pepper is gazing back at him with a pinched expression, blinking a bit too rapidly as if trying to keep unwanted tears from falling. 

Not that Tony can't blame her, really, regardless of being her father or not. He surely doesn't look like any father that she would remember, with one arm missing, bandaged from the waist up to his neck, and his face finally unbandaged and unpatched, raw red scars branching across his skin now visible for anyone to see. He knows he looks... well. Hideous, to be fair, so. He doesn't even like to look at himself in the mirror... he clears his throat and chances another glance down at his daughter's cowering form before turning his head away so that only the unscarred side is visible to them, gaze locked onto the blank wall to his right. There's a hard clenching in his chest, like a metal band cinched too tightly around him, and it has nothing to do with any combat damage or damage lingering from using the stones and dying. He swallows past the lump gathering in his throat and clenches his fist in his lap. He hears Pepper mumble something encouraging to their daughter followed by "Go see your daddy, sweetie, he's missed you," and out of his peripheral can see her attempting to gently guide Morgan closer but the little girl is standing firm and shaking her head back and forth. He is about to open his mouth to tell Pepper that it's ok, that they can try some other time, but Morgan's tiny little voice raises up before he can. 

"That's not Daddy, momma. You said Daddy had gone to Heaven, and that people don't come back from Heaven. That's not Daddy," his litter girl insists, tears welling up in her eyes and looking up at Pepper before taking a step back towards the door and hugging herself. Pepper starts to respond, a halting "Baby, I know but-" when Morgan steps back again, shoulders rising and chin ducking down as she shakes her head vehemently. "No, no. You said Daddy couldn't come back. You said that's why you started seeing Michael, and that Michael may someday be my new Daddy, and that it was only because my real Daddy had died saving the world, so that can't be Daddy. It can't be Daddy unless you lied to me, Momma." And with that the little girl spins away on a sob and flees the room, Pepper moving to chase after her but halting at the doorway, conflicted, as she watches Morgan fleeing down the hallway. She looks over her shoulder to meet Tony's gaze, eyes sorrowful and apologetic and fearful, and Tony gives her a twisted smile just before she leaves. 

And that....

Well.

Tony hasn't really let himself think much about Pepper and their marriage and if she would have moved on or not. He's specifically not thought about it, to be honest, because he hasn't been ready to have that sort of conversation with her yet. He really just wanted to spend as much time with her as he could, and with his daughter, though it seems that the time with Morgan is going to have to wait even longer if she is scared of him or thinks that he's not actually real. It stings but... well. He folds his hand into the blanket draped over his lap and rubs his thumb against it, eyes focused on the movement as a way of grounding himself. After a few minutes the click-clack of heels against the floor draws his attention back to the doorway where Pepper returns looking nervous and unsure. 

"She... just needs time, Tony. We will just have to explain to her what happened... well, as much as we can for her to understand that you really are back. It was.... really hard when you first, uh... died, for her. She didn't understand. She kept asking if it would be like everyone else that died and came back. Peter... Peter was the one who finally was able to get her to understand that what happened to him and the rest that disappeared with him was not actually Death.... and that you truly died and wouldn't be coming back. I had to.... she had to get put into therapy for a few months." Pepper pauses there, lips pressing together in a thin, tight line as her eyes rove over his face but purposefully seem to avoid the right side of his face. It makes Tony even more self conscious but he carefully keeps his face emotionless and yet open, just watching her intently. She clears her throat softly and her fingers play with the bottom of her form hugging light blue blazer.... a nervous tick that Tony usually is terribly fond of but makes his heart lurch again into his throat as she finally forces herself to meet his gaze, gaze almost tormented. 

"We thought..... I thought you were dead, Tony. I grieved. I held you after you took your last breath. I watched your body carried away in a bag. I arranged your funeral and memorials and.... I thought you were dead." Her voice breaks on a small sob, tears finally falling down her beautiful face, flushed pink in grief. "I grieved for what seems like forever. The only thing that kept me going was Morgan. I even had to go to group grief counseling after a while and I...." She chokes, wiping at her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands, smudging a bit of her eyeliner in the process. Even a crying mess Tony doesn't think he's ever seen a woman that could match her beauty. 

"I... I met Mike... Michael there. He had lost his wife and son around the same time we lost you and.... Oh, Tony, if there had been ANY chance I thought that you could be..." She covers her face with her hands for a moment, shoulders shaking in silent sobs, and all Tony can do is watch her seem to fall apart. He's not sure... how he feels, really. Or more he feels so many different things that he cannot truly focus on any of them. He knows without a doubt, though, that he loves Pepper and he wants her to be happy and if that means happy with someone else who is he to demand anything from her? It might feel like he missed no time at all but he has been gone for years. Is it really fair to have expected her to stay alone her entire life? He rubs his hand across his mouth, digging within himself to yank up that good person he has in there somewhere. 

"Pep-" he starts, croaking around the emotion blocking up his throat, and then swallows and tries again as her red tinged gorgeous eyes are revealed again, mouth fighting against a heavy frown. "Pep, it's... fine. You... if you love... if you're in love with.... it's fine. Really." 

Pepper presses the heels of her palms against her closed eyes for a moment, shoulders heaving up and down a few times before her ponytail whips back and forth with the force of the head shake she makes. She clenches her jaw and her arms fall to her sides as she squares her shoulders and up straight with a small sniffly. 

"No, Tony. No. You were my husband. You're the father of my child. I never fell out of love with you, I just thought you were gone. No. I will... I will talk to Mike. He will... understand. He will. If he could have his wife and son back I know... he...." 

"Pep," he says softly, moved and yet also concerned and hurting still, watching the conflicted emotions playing over her face even as she shakes her head again and holds up a palm. 

"No. No, Tony, you deserve... we deserve to try and be a family again. A proper one. I just... just let me speak with him one more time and I promise that I will focus on rebuilding us."

They stare at each other for a long few moment, searchingly, and then Tony looks back down at his hands where he has started fiddling his thumb again. He could tell her not to. He could tell her that he wants her to stay with this Michael guy who has taken care of her when he could not but... Tony is sometimes a very, very selfish man, and when he thinks that he has the opportunity to have his wife, his daughter, and eventually his normal life back he can't ... he can't let that chance pass him by, no matter what or who may want to stand in the way. He can, at least, do one thing for Pepper... he can....

"Go and... stay with him tonight," he grind the words out, forcing them to leave his mouth, and hears her take a sharp though quiet inhale. He refuses to look up at her as he continues, "Go and... have whatever proper... goodbye you need and want. I... I won't... it's fine. Whatever you need to do is fine." He licks his dry lips, arms trembling as he grips the blanket in his hand tightly, knowing he's is giving her carte blanch to do... anything and he will never ask. 

Pepper approaches him and leans over to press her lips lightly against his left temple, enveloping him in the scent of her clean perfume. He takes a deep inhale, closing his eyes, refusing to do or say anything else. Another kiss brushes the left corner of his mouth and then a wet cheek is pressed against his briefly with a breathy whispered "Thank you, Tony," before the sound of her heels take her to the door, which she closes gently behind her as she leaves. 

Tony bends over at the waist and draws up his legs so that his forehead can rest on his knees as he bends them and pushes them up, relishing in the discomfort and pain it causes his still bandaged midsection as he clenches his teeth tightly and fights back the wave of anger and sadness that sweeps through him, causing the heart monitor to spike wildly enough to have one of the doctors bustle in, alarmed, and soon he is forcefully being drug into nothingness as the Doctor injects something into his IV in hopes to keep him stable.


End file.
